


A Lucky Man Indeed

by ArchangelEquinox



Series: Once More to the Breach [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Cullen, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Food Poisoning, POV Cullen Rutherford, Romantic Fluff, Skyhold, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5275076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelEquinox/pseuds/ArchangelEquinox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The poor Inquisitor has food poisoning, and Cullen, sweet and awkward man that he is, must care for her. </p><p>Fluff all around!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lucky Man Indeed

            Something thumped against the door to Cullen's office.  He didn't look up; Sera's latest game was throwing peaches at his tower, as if that would somehow mean anything to him.  His recruits cringed each time they saw the sticky fruit smashed against the stone.  They all knew that the next time one of them screwed something up, it was going to be them climbing that tower to clean it off.  Cullen was almost thankful for Sera's antics -- his men had not been better behaved in months -- but he would never admit that to the devious elf.           

            When the thump repeated itself, and then came several times in quick succession, Cullen shoved himself back from his desk.  _Void take that elf and her Maker-forsaken peaches!_ He yanked the door open, prepared to tear into the disruptive rogue, only to have the Inquisitor fall across his feet and shins, looking for all the world like she'd slept there on his doorstep. 

            "Maker's breath!"  He exclaimed, dropping to kneel beside her.  Her clothes were rumpled, her hair tangled with… something… dripping from it, and the scent coming off her was fairly ripe.  The skin on her face was too pale by far, covered by a thin sheen of sweat.  Her hands opened and closed compulsively against the stone below her.  After a moment to survey her, Cullen could safely say something was wrong.  His hands hovered over her, unsure where to touch.  "Inquisitor, what happened!"

            She twisted her neck to look up at him, her head lolling onto one shoulder.  Her green eyes seemed to bore into him without recognition, and he realized suddenly that she wasn't quite sure where she was. 

            "Talia, it's Cullen," he told her, taking one of her hands.  The other gently maneuvered her to lean against the door.  "You're in my office.  Are you okay?"  For perhaps the first time ever, he wished for a scout to interrupt so he could send for a healer.  Something was very wrong. 

            Suddenly, she grimaced and clutched her stomach.  Her skin paled further, now taking on a near-ashen color, but her eyes cleared a little. 

            "Cullen, help," she gasped out.  "I'm sick." 

            "What happened?" 

            "I don't know!" she cried.  "I woke up in Bull's quarters with him, Sera, and Dorian, and I know we were out drinking last night, and --"  She stopped when she noticed Cullen's face.  His eyes were wide, his eyebrows lifted in horror, and his mouth had fallen open.  "No! Nothing like that! We just --"  Her stomach clenched and she groaned again, her eyes squeezing shut.  "We just had too much to drink." 

            Cullen surveyed her.  She looked far too ill to simply be hungover.  "Are you sure that's all it is?" 

            "I don't know," she groaned out.  She leaned to rest her head on the door and miscalculated the distance, instead sliding down to rest on the stone.  Cullen moved a hand to feel her forehead -- it was burning. 

            "Maker, Talia, you have a fever.  What else happened this morning?" 

            "Well, I thought I'd visit when I got up, so I started over here," she forced out.  She was breathing hard all of a sudden.  "But then I… I had to go to the latrine."  Her face turned red all the way up to her ears.  "Sorry." 

            "No need to apologize," he said gently.  "How'd you get here?"  Talia looked around again, her location no longer registering. 

            "Um…" she began. 

            "In my office, remember?" 

            "Oh yeah… I sat down to rest and then couldn't stand back up, so I banged my head on the door." 

            Cullen stared at her in horror for a moment -- _how many thumps did I ignore before I got up?_ \-- before taking a deep breath. 

            "Oh, Talia, I am so sorry.  Are you okay?"  She shivered where she lay, and Cullen whipped his cloak off to wrap it around her.  "Maker's breath, of course not, I…"  He glanced around his office.  There was no way he could get her up the ladder to his bed, and he couldn't just leave her to fetch… He didn't know what.  Anything, really.  He settled for adjusting the coat around her, his fingertips brushing across her skin. 

            "Talia, do you have any idea what's making you this sick?  I don't think it's a hangover." 

            She shook her head and tried to sit up.  Cullen helped, carefully lifting her shoulders until she was upright against the door again. 

            "What are… your, um, symptoms?"  He said it cautiously, not sure he wanted to hear about bodily functions so early in their relationship.  He gritted his teeth. 

            "I, um…"  She blushed again, and Cullen felt a little relief knowing she had the same reservations.  "I've been throwing up.  And …things have been, um, happening at the other end…"  She made a face and cringed as her shoulders and arms started shaking again. 

            "And you have a fever," he added.  "You're probably dehydrated.  When was the last time you ate anything and it… uh, stayed down?" 

            Talia's eyes widened.  "Oh no… I forgot about that…" 

            Cullen grasped her shoulder, trying to steady her.  Her shivering hadn't subsided despite the weight of his cloak wrapped around her.  "Forgot about what?" 

            "Last night… I lost a bet with Bull," she finally admitted.  "He bet that neither Dorian nor I would humble our noble selves enough to eat…. I don't remember, some qunari dish I wish I'd never heard of."  She almost cried as her stomach clenched again and Cullen ran his anxious hands over her shoulders and back as she sat there.  Something clicked in her head and she wailed.  "He didn't tell us it was poisoned!"

            Cullen jolted backward.  Poisoned? _Had Iron Bull's Ben-Hassrath loyalties finally --_ Talia's sudden touch brought him back to her, probably just in time to keep him from running off to beat the ever-living shite out of Bull. 

            "It's food poisoning, Cullen," she forced out, breathing hard again.  "Not deathroot."  Her mouth tried to smile but failed as her stomach finally won its rebellion and she leaned over to throw up, narrowing avoiding his shoes. 

            He stared for a moment, not totally sure what to do.  Many men, mostly soldiers or his Templar brothers, had thrown up in front of him before, but never someone he lov -- cared deeply about.  _Don't go there, Rutherford. Now's not the time._

            Instead, his mind wandered back to that time he'd eaten bad oysters at the Hanged Man in Kirkwall -- what on earth had possessed him to eat seafood in a grisly tavern like that he'd never know -- and he moved to his desk.  Refilling a mug with some water, he dropped to his knees beside the stricken woman in his office. 

            Gently he eased her up a little, his hand braced against her back and her shaking hands clinging to his forearm.  "Drink a little," he murmured, tilting the cup against her lips.  She drank, realized it was still cold after being on his desk all morning, and tried to down it.  "Hey, none of that.  Don't want you rendering the office completely uninhabitable."  He smiled gently at her as she let go of the cup. 

            "Can you help me back up?" she asked eventually, her shaking subsiding a bit. 

            "Of course."  Putting the cup to the side, he shifted his weight to his feet and wiggled his arms under her.  She leaned against his chest as he stood. 

            "My poor sweet Quizzie," he said quietly as he lifted her, knowing the diminutive of her title always made her smile.  Sera might have coined it, he'd admit, but he'd made it his in moments… _well, not quite like this one,_ his mind reasoned.  _Usually moments involving less vomit and more kissing._

            Nonetheless, Talia still smiled.  "What?" she asked.

            "You're ridiculous.  I know you value the friendships you've made since the Inquisition began, but both Bull and Dorian will still love you if you turn them down once in a while.  Sera too.  Perhaps even more."   

            "I know," she sighed.  "I just…"  Her voice trailed off and Cullen felt her shiver violently in his arms again. 

            "Come on," he said, kicking at the door to the breezeway in an effort to open it.  "Let's get you into the keep."   The door, which had still been giving him trouble, opened before him to reveal one of his guards on patrol.  The man's eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened at the sight of the Commander carrying a near-unconscious Inquisitor out of his office. 

            "Soldier," Cullen snapped, the scowl on his face deadly.  "I need you to find one of the servants and ask him or her to clean up my office.  You will then be stationed here until the next patrol, to redirect anyone looking for me to the Inquisitor's quarters."  

            The guard's eyes stayed wide.  "Is she okay, Commander?" 

            "She ate some bad food, that's all," Cullen explained, his eyes giving the guard a look that clearly threatened him: if inappropriate rumors spread, the Commander would know who started them.    

            Thankfully, the guard's face softened.  "Always rough, that," he said, and offered Cullen a smart salute.  "I'll take care of things here, ser.  You can count on me." 

            "Thank you, soldier.  Please send a runner up with the pile of reports on my desk when one comes through.  I will work from there until further notice." 

            "Yes ser!"  The guard stepped through his office and out onto the battlements in search of a maid, and Cullen offered up a prayer of thanks. 

            The Inquisitor shifted in his arms.  "Where are we going?" 

            "To Solas, for a healing potion, and then to your quarters.  You need rest." 

            "Okay," she said and snuggled against his chest.  Despite the situation, Cullen couldn't help the warmth that spread through him.  He adjusted her gently, wishing he wasn't wearing his armor so she'd be more comfortable resting against him, and headed to the keep. 

            Solas stopped him as he made his way through the rotunda toward the Great Hall. 

            "Commander," the elf said dryly.  "Is everything all right?"  Cullen explained Talia's situation, which gained a sympathetic look from Solas.  He dug through the drawers in his desk quickly before coming up with a potion. 

            "Have her drink this once she's settled," he told the Commander before turning to Talia.  She'd stopped shivering in Cullen's arms, but her eyes were glassy and her breathing still shallow.  "Inquisitor?" 

            Talia's eyes shifted to rest on Solas. 

            A tiny smile crept across his face.  "Can you hold this for the Commander?"  One of her hands crept out from underneath Cullen's coat, and Solas tucked the flask into it.  "You'll need to take this once he gets you upstairs.  Can you do that?"  The mage's words were spoken slowly, as though to a child, and Talia nodded, her eyes sinking closed. 

            "Thank you, Solas," Cullen said, and he nodded at the Commander.  The elf's cool eyes surveyed Talia for a moment, lighting on whatever was in her hair and the flush spread through her cheeks. 

            "Shall I send up a bath as well, Commander?" 

            Cullen hadn't even thought about that.  The sudden vision of Talia naked intruded into his otherwise innocent thoughts, and he blushed up to his ears. 

            "Uh, yes, that would be… um… y-yes," he forced out, and Solas gave him a tiny smirk before sauntering off to locate a servant.  Cullen stared after him for a moment, wondering if he should perhaps call the mage back and explain that his embarrassment was not, in fact, embarrassment.  Then Talia shivered again in his arms, and he was brought back to reality. 

            "Almost there, dear," he said, adjusting her weight and opening the door into the main keep. 

            Sadly, the Great Hall was not empty when Cullen ventured into it, but Varric acted as a herald, ushering him through the always-gathered nobles swiftly and with a minimum of fuss.  The trek up the stairs to the Inquisitor's quarters took longer than Cullen would have liked -- his arms were starting to burn with the strain of carrying Talia's dead weight -- but soon they were there.  

            This was his first time in her quarters since they'd kissed -- since his illness, when he'd spent weeks there.  After they'd started their relationship, he'd stopped visiting as often as he had before.  Then, he'd been trying to see her as much as possible, unsure of her feelings but wanting to be close to her.  Now, though they weren't exactly hiding their budding relationship, he worried about the rumors it might start if he were to vanish into her quarters for long periods of time.  Varric and Dorian were already prone to gossip; he had no desire to provide them more material. 

            He looked around her quarters as he carried her in, and he was struck by just how messy they were.  _Maybe I just didn't notice before?_ But he had studied every inch of Talia's chambers while he'd been recovering and confined to bed.  She must have cleaned before he awoke, and since then the room had reverted back to its natural state. 

            Talia started fidgeting in his arms again as soon as he stepped into the room, and he moved to lay her gently in the bed.  She clung to him, unwilling to leave the supportive circle of his arms. 

            "Don't leave," she whispered, and Cullen kissed the side of her head as he lowered her to the mattress. 

            "I won't," he told her, and her body relaxed a little.  He took the flask from her hands once he'd laid her down and left it by the side of the bed.  Talia wiggled against the mattress, trying to get comfortable, and Cullen couldn't help his chuckle at the sight of her.  She was still entirely outside the blankets, but she'd burrowed her way further into his coat, with only her nose and eyes showing over its furry collar.  Her legs stuck out but she'd wrapped the edges of it over her knees in an attempt to warm herself up. 

            "Here," he said, gently tugging the blankets out from under her.  She sighed and wiggled again, sticking her still-booted feet under the edges of the blankets.  Cullen sat down next to her and reached for her legs.  "You want to take your boots off?"  She nodded without opening her eyes, and he chuckled again.  It took him a few moments to unlace them -- he didn't have a lot of experience in removing women's shoes -- but finally he managed to loosen them enough to pull them off.  Talia immediately shoved her toes back under the blankets. 

            "No, no," he chided gently when she didn't move.  "Health potion before you can sleep."  He reached for the flask and popped the cork.  Talia opened her eyes and glared at it but dutifully stuck out her hand.  Cullen handed it to her, and she sat up just enough to drink, grimacing all the while.  He watched her, a soft but unreadable expression on his face.  The door to her quarters opened just as he was about to speak, and a pair of servants appeared, lugging a heavy copper tub up the stairs. 

            "I'll be right back," he said softly and stood to help them.  They positioned the tub close to the fire, and one of the servants disappeared to starting filling it with water while the other set up the fire rune.  The screen that had been on one side of the Inquisitor's chambers was moved to give her some privacy as well, and before long, a steaming bath awaited her. 

            Then, to Cullen's dismay, both servants vanished, leaving only the tub and a pile of fluffy towels in their wake. 

            He stared at the screen and tub.  They couldn't possibly expect him to help her bathe, could they?  That was insane on the face of it.  But when minutes passed and no one else arrived, it was the only conclusion Cullen could draw.  He took a deep breath and tried to suppress the blush he knew was spreading down below his armor.

            When he turned back to the bed, Talia was burrowed into the fur of his coat collar, one hand holding the empty potion flask just outside the blankets. 

            "Quizzie," he said softly, sitting down and carefully unwrapping the coat from her shoulders.  "There's a bath here for you." 

            "Don't need one," she muttered, giving a huge yawn.  Then she wrinkled her nose.  "You do though. You smell." 

            Cullen suppressed a snort of laughter, but just barely.  "I hate to tell you this, dear, but that smell is definitely you."  That made her look up, her eyes wide.  He gave her a serious nod, and she frowned. 

            "Bath, huh?"  Her voice was stronger, and the glassiness in her eyes had vanished.  Carefully Cullen helped her up, and they made their way over to the steaming tub.  Talia pondered it for a moment, her hand clenched around his fingers. 

            "Talia?"  Cullen prompted gently when she didn't move or speak. 

            "Bath," she repeated, and he could see her trying to figure something out.  She gave herself a little shake before smiling up at him.  "Will you wait?  While I… you know." She gestured at the tub. 

            "Of course," he replied.  Stepping away from her, he maneuvered  around the screen and sat down on the couch.  As he waited, he studied the screen intently, trying to decide if he were thankful or annoyed that its material was sturdy enough not to reveal Talia's shadowed form as she moved.  Thankful, he finally decided, just as Talia's voice called across the room. 

            "Cullen?" 

            "Yes?" 

            "I… um, I, uh… need your help," she stammered. 

            He froze.  "You… what?" 

            "I can't get the clasps on my shirt undone," she admitted, barely audible over the crackling of the fire behind her.  "I need your help." 

            "I… will go get a servant to help you, Inquisitor," he said finally, falling back on her title when his embarrassment threatened to make his voice shake. 

            "No!"  She burst out, and he froze again, this time in mid-stride toward the stairs.  "They'll talk about how weak I am.  Please, Cullen." 

            This time, he could not ignore the pleading in her voice.  "All right," he said, swallowing down his hesitance.  He stayed in place for a moment, wondering if he should take off his armor or if this were indeed proper behavior for their situation, but soon his concern that she not pass out waiting for him took over. 

            With a quick run of his hand through his hair, he stepped behind the screen to help. 

            Talia stood before him, her hands clenched in the fabric of her tunic.  Her long legs were bare, her socks gone; the tunic hung low against the tops of her thighs, but the black fabric of her smalls winked out at him from just below its hem. 

            His mouth went dry, and the sudden rush of blood had him averting his eyes and willing his body not to embarrass him.  "Talia…" he began, but could not finish. 

            "I'm sorry," she interrupted, and the tears threatening in her voice had him looking back up at her, eyes focused on her face.  "I… you don't have to help.  I don't want things between us rushed like this, I just can't do it myself, and you…" 

            "No, Talia, it's not…"  he stepped close to her, one of his hands coming to rest over hers.  The other cupped her cheek.  "You are beautiful," he said quietly.  Slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted, he leaned down and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her lips.  "You need my help," he said when he pulled away.  "And I will be there for you." 

            She eyed him carefully, her green eyes moist.  "Are you sure?" 

            "I am," he said gently.  Then a smirk slid across his features.  "Though I will admit, this is not how I pictured my first time undressing you." 

            Surprise melted the remaining uncertainty off her face.  "Given the end result, I'm not sure this counts," she joked back, and he felt his tense muscles relax a little.  She pushed herself to her tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose.  "I need help with the clasps," she told him again, and he could feel how she was still shaky with illness under all her bravado. 

            "Let me," he said, gently prying her fingers off her shirt.  She dropped her hands to her sides and stood still, watching him from under her lashes.  Cullen's hand shook just a little as he gently unclasped the first one, revealing the pale skin of her throat. 

            He didn't notice Talia tensing under his touch until his latest button revealed the low plunge of her breastband and cleavage, and he hesitated before reaching for the next one.  His whole head felt foggy with the heat he was trying to suppress with thoughts of propriety and respect, and Talia wasn't helping, breathing harder with each undone button and fresh skin revealed.  The tips of his gloved fingers brushed against the underside of her breasts as he undid the catch there, and he felt more than heard the hitch in her breath.  A spike of heat rippled through his body, settling in his groin. 

            Her eyes were focused on his hands now, and the flush on her cheeks spread down her chest.  If he focused, Cullen could have seen the blush plunge under her breastband, but his own eyes were trained on hers.  It was all he could do not to rip her tunic open.  He flew through the last few clasps, desperate both to stop touching her and regain his control, and to never stop touching her at all.  All the while, Talia stared at him, her eyes flicking between his fingers on her shirt, his lips, and his eyes on hers. 

            The last buttons lingered between his fingers far longer than was necessary, until Talia finally pulled her eyes away from his hands and met his stare. 

            "Talia..."

            "Cullen…" Somehow they had stepped closer to one another, now just a breath apart. 

            A low whine from her stomach interjected between them, and Cullen abruptly stepped back.  A wave of guilt washed over him; in the heat of the moment, he had entirely forgotten that she was sick.  He glanced at her, face red, to find her laughing with an equal blush spread over her cheeks. 

            "Sorry," she laughed, and Cullen couldn't help but smile back, even as his hand unconsciously rubbed at the back of his neck. 

            "It's quite all right," he replied, and took another careful step back from her.  "I will let you get cleaned up."  He tried not to let his eyes linger on the inch-wide strip of flesh that was revealed from her throat to her smalls by her open shirt, but he couldn't help the draw of that inch.  He could see her belly button, the line of muscle leading up to her breasts, the ridge of a scar that bisected her abdomen.

            "Cullen," she said softly, drawing his eyes back to her face.  He met hers, blushing harder than ever before.  Talia's fingers curled under the edges of her undone tunic, starting to pull it off as he watched.

            "Wait!" he gasped out, and she froze, a look of shock on her face.  "It's not that… I mean… I want you to… Maker's breath," he groaned then, dropping his face into his hands.  Talia stepped close to him, her hands rubbing along his biceps. 

            "Cullen?" 

            He looked up, meeting her eyes, and reached out to cup her face in his palms.  "You are still sick," he told her, choosing his words carefully.  "And I don't want you to… do something you might regret, later." 

            Her brow furrowed.  "I would never regret this." 

            "Even so," he said, glossing over the way his heart soared at her words.  "You deserve a better… I don't even know what I'd call this, but you deserve a better one.  Better than sick, and being helpless to take off your own clothes…"  His brain caught up with his words, and he blushed again.  "Andraste's sword, there has to be a better way for me to…" 

            Her lips against his silenced his thought.  Cullen melted against her, feeling her hands skim around his sides to clutch at him, her body warm pressed against his. 

            As quickly as it began, the kiss was over, and Talia stepped back.  "Then turn around, my Commander, so I can finish getting undressed," she murmured.  "And then you can help me wash my hair." 

            Cullen busied himself with removing his armor while he waited for Talia to call him back.  He did not think about the processing of undressing she was going through.  He did not think about her tunic hanging open, that tantalizing line of skin begging him to reveal more of it.  He did not think about her smalls winking up at him from beneath the hem of her tunic, and he definitely did not think about how little fabric was between them when she had kissed him. 

            He did not think about any of these things. 

            Instead, he concentrated on the various buckles and ties holding all that metal to his body, and if he happened to fumble when his treacherous mind wandered, well… 

            Talia had settled deep into the copper tub by the time she called Cullen back to help her.  Her lower body was hidden in the shadows of the water's depths, made darker by the shadows cast from the fire.  One arm was crossed protectively over her chest.  Her bare shoulders glistened in the light, and she must have dunked her head for water dripped from her hair already. 

            "I can't reach my back," she explained.  "And I rinsed my hair, but the shampoo is…" She gestured with her free hand, and Cullen picked up a ridiculously small bottle from a tray of soaps near the tub. 

            "This?" 

            "Yep!"  She beamed at him as he brought it over, studying its label. 

            "It's… Orlesian," he said finally, and try as he might, he couldn't disguise the disdain in his voice. 

            Thankfully, Talia just laughed.  "Not all of us can smell as delicious as you, or your hair products." 

            "I use no such things!"

            She raised an eyebrow at him before resting her head against the back of the tub.  "Whatever you say, Commander," she teased.  Out of spite, Cullen dumped a disproportionately large amount of the rich-smelling shampoo over her head, and she protested. 

            "That's expensive! Josephine will kill you."  

            "You need it," he insisted, grinning at her when she gave him an accusing look.  "You're sick." 

            He was glad he shed his armor then, as he was able to roll up his sleeves and dig his fingers into the damp tendrils of her hair.  She'd rinsed out whatever unmentionables she had gotten in it earlier that morning while ill (thankfully), and now he was free massage her scalp to his content.  To his surprise, a playful side he couldn't remember having since he was a child came bubbling to the surface, inspiring him to draw little designs, hearts and flowers, in the soapy foam on her shoulders and enjoy the feel of her skin under his hands.  Through it all, Talia just relaxed and let him touch her, and he had never felt so lucky, nor so grateful. 

            Eventually, he had to admit that he was doing more playing than cleaning, and Talia's hair was ready for a rinse. 

            "Ready?"  He warned her, scooping up a cup of the hot water from the tub before dousing her with it.  She sputtered and gave him a dirty look.  "Sorry," he smiled at her, not looking sorry at all. 

            "Wash my back?"  She asked, as if this were a punishment for him, and he nodded.  She shifted her weight forward, and Cullen averted his eyes for a moment as she got situated.  Her hair pulled safely over one shoulder, she settled her chest against her knees and watched him.  Cullen dug up a bar of Inquisition-issue soap from the tray beside her. 

            "Ugh, that barracks stuff?"  She grumbled, and Cullen laughed as he worked it into a lather. 

            "The same stuff I use, Inquisitor," he teased, and she rolled her eyes at him.  He worked the soap over her skin, being careful not to venture too far around her sides lest he make her uncomfortable.  Talia, however, hummed her approval and closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch. 

            Cullen was done sooner than he wanted to be, but the fog in his brain reasoned that it was probably for the best.  He could barely keep from touching her more intimately -- fingertips dipping below the water to trace along her sides, perhaps, or pressing his lips into her neck -- and this was not the moment for that.  Instead, Talia was nearly asleep in the tub, and he jostled her just a little as he emptied the cup over her shoulders one last time. 

            "Finished," he said softly, and she opened her eyes.  "I'll leave the towel beside you, with your robe."  She waited as he stepped away from the tub.   Cullen paused at the edge of the screen, debating for just a moment if he should go back and help her, go back and scoop her up, naked and wet, and carry her to the bed, and then… He gave himself a slight shake and stepped away to give Talia her privacy. 

            His thoughts wandered once again as he waited for her to dry off.  This whole relationship… the experience, while not entirely new, was unlike any other he'd ever had.  Other women had, for short periods of time, wanted to be involved with him, but more often than not, there was little true connection between them.  Too many women had focused on his looks and nothing else, and he had been far too damaged and cruel for far too many years to make a good partner. 

            Talia, though… Everything with Talia felt different.  She wanted to know his opinions and understand his life, and he in turn wanted to smile at her and laugh and enjoy things like he'd never known possible.  He wanted to comfort her when she hurt, carry her in his arms when she fell, protect her even though he knew that was impossible.  And to think that this woman cared about him! He relaxed back against the couch with a sigh.  No matter the outcome, in this moment he was a lucky man. 

            Talia stepped out from behind the screen then, and Cullen jumped to his feet to support her.  The pain of being sick had dissipated with the bath, and her skin glowed fresh and clean.  She'd tied her robe loosely around her waist, its silky hem kissing her bare thighs.  Despite this appearance of health though, Cullen would see her fatigue in the slump of her shoulders, the measured movements of her steps, and he slid his arm around her waist to support her. 

            She collapsed against the bed, her face buried in the pillow, and Cullen suppressed a laugh. 

            "Quizzie, dear," he began.  "I don't think you should sleep like that."  She made a noise and rolled over into his coat, still spread across the bed.  Quickly she converted it into a make-shift blanket, and she smiled at him over the collar. 

            Cullen sat down next to her for a moment, his fingertips brushing over her cheek and temple.  "How are you feeling?" 

            "Much better," she said.  "Thank you for helping me." 

            "Of course," he said.  When she yawned, he stood to pull the blankets over her, though he was careful to use only one so she didn't overheat with his coat still on.  When he tucked its edges gently around her shoulders, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. 

            "Thank you," she repeated softly, and one small hand snuck out from under her covers to reach for him.  Cullen sat again and took her hand. 

            "Always," he replied, kissing her fingers.  They watched each other in silence for a moment before Cullen tore his eyes away to scan over the room.  "You know, I haven't been up here since…"  He trailed off, and his free hand came up to rub the back of his neck. 

            Talia's voice was sleepy when it came.  "Since our positions were a little reversed, huh?" 

            "Well, yes," Cullen chuckled. 

            "I'm glad you're back," she said, squeezing his hand and snuggling deeper into the pillow.  "I missed you." 

            He looked down at her, confused.  "You did?  But.. I didn't… I mean… I'm always _here_ , in Skyhold, and …"

            Talia didn't open her eyes.  "You stopped coming to visit though," she said.  "I liked that."  Cullen blushed.  He hadn't realized that she'd caught on to that, either before or after they'd first kissed. 

            "I… didn't think you'd noticed,"  he said self-consciously. 

            Now Talia looked at him, her green eyes dark in the shadows of the room.  "Of course I did.  I had such a …" She hesitated, and a blush spread across the parts of her face he could see.  He knew now, thanks to their interlude with her shirt, how that blush spread, and it did not help his own.  "I had a crush on you," she finally said, and her voice, already muffled by the coat, was so low he had to bend down to hear her.

            "You did?"  He had spent too long convincing himself that his feelings were one-sided; it was hard to reconcile that she had been just as tormented by her crush as he. There had been stories before he'd been sick, of course, and Dorian had teased him relentlessly for weeks that he just needed to man up and kiss her, but to hear it from Talia herself… it was surreal, just as that first kiss weeks before. 

            She nodded and pulled the coat away from her face, pushing herself up a little.  "I loved when you came up here, even though I figured it wasn't for any … well, romantic reasons." 

            Cullen stared at her for a moment before lying all the way down and stretching out so they were parallel.  Once again, he thanked the Maker that he'd taken off his armor so he was actually comfortable beside her.   He kissed her fingertips again, and a sleepy smile spread over her face.  "I cannot count the times I made up excuses to come up here and visit you," he admitted quietly, blush spreading but voice steady.  "I am glad to be back too." 

            "You should make up more excuses then," she told him, her lips curving into a true smile. 

            Cullen couldn't help but smile back.  "I believe I shall."  She nodded and yawned, her eyes drifting closed. 

            Cullen watched her for several long minutes.  With each exhale, the fur collar of his coat blew outward and brushed against the pillow beneath her head, and her fingers gradually loosened their grip on his.  Her eyelashes fluttered as she tried to keep herself from falling asleep, but Cullen knew it was a losing battle. 

            "Sleep, Talia," he whispered.  He carefully disengaged his hand from her grip and scooted away to stand up.  The second his boots touched the ground, Talia's eyes snapped open. 

            "Cullen?"  She asked, and he was surprised to hear fear in her voice. 

            "I'm here," he said, walking around the bed to sit again at her side.  "But I have work to do, and you need rest." 

            "Stay, though?"  She asked it quietly, carefully, like she was sure he would say no. 

            Cullen leaned over her and ran his hand over her cheek, smoothing down her damp hair.  "I will be here when you wake up." 

            "Promise?" 

            "I promise," he said, smiling a little at how much her body had relaxed at his words.  He would never have imagined that his presence would mean so much to anyone, let alone someone like Talia.  On impulse, he leaned the rest of the way down to hug her against his chest for a moment, his forehead pressed against her temple.  A tight bubble in his chest, one he hadn't known was there, let go, and he held back a sudden rush of tears.  "I will always be here," he whispered into her skin.  She twisted just a little and brushed a kiss across his lips. 

            "Thank you, Cullen," she breathed before turning back into the pillow.  He gave her a gentle squeeze before sitting up and smoothing the blankets over her. 

            "Sleep well, my lovely Inquisitor," he said quietly, kissing her forehead once before standing.  She did not open her eyes again, but he saw a tiny smile creep across her face. 

            A lucky man, indeed. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fluff-monster got seriously out of control. Hope you enjoyed reading it -- I certainly enjoyed writing it :) 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!


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